


The Echo

by Mythos43213



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 17:41:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7767199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mythos43213/pseuds/Mythos43213
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It may be taken, but does it ever really leave?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Echo

The Echo  
A Zootopia One Shot Fanfiction  
By  
Joshua Trujillo

***

I look around. No one on my street is up at this time of night. That's a good thing. I can't sleep. I haven't been able to sleep well since I woke up in that hospital, all those months ago. The first person that I saw was my lovely wife. She held me and she cried. They told me little at first, especially about what had happened. I knew what had happened. I knew the moment the...drug...entered my system. For the sake of the gods, I knew exactly what it was! I'm a florist! I should know!

Nighthowlers. Noxious, angry plants. Handle with rubber gloves, if you can't use tongs. I knew all the procedures. I was one of the only florists in the city with the license to handle dangerous plants. I still have the license, actually. It's a matter of pride, after all.

When I was but a wee apprentice otter, working in the shop, learning the trade, I accidently held one - just held it! - and a tiny bit of poison slipped onto my unprotected paw. It was enough that I grew feverish and angry and I almost got myself fired, if the owner hadn't known the signs. I went to the hospital that night and the prescription had been part mental and part physical. The drugs they gave me calmed me to the point where I felt in control of myself and then they told me to run. Run, exercise, get the heart rate up to where I couldn't run anymore. Burn the toxins out of my system. Worn out, I returned home that night to my lonely apartment and collapsed. I did that three days running. Three days! Can you even imagine it? Solely to control the angry, hateful impluses that weren't even my own.

My poor, loving wife deserves better. She puts up with my eccentric clientelle and how it disrupts our life, all for the value that it gives me with them. Their money has given us a very good lifestyle. My family grew accustomed to it.

I drop to the driveway and throw myself into the push-ups. Ten, twenty, egods, I already feel like crap! I strain to push another ten. I stop at five and slowly pick myself off the pavement. I shake my head and begin to run. I pull the hood over my head, lest someone spot me. I passed a couple of gazelle heading out of the corner bodega. They were arguing loudly, so didn't notice me. I slip through the night and come to a playground. My son and I come to this playground often. He likes to watch his old man stumble through the jungle gym. I amuse him the best I can, but the truth is something else. I look around. No one at this time of night, but I look anyway. I strip off my hoodie, then jump up and grab the bar. Pull...pull...I pull until my arms burn, until my shoulders want to rip off, until I drop to the ground, my paws on my knees, panting in great, gasping breaths.

I look around again. Yeah, I'm paranoid. When you've gone through what I went through, you tend to be a little paranoid. I drop my dirty hoodie back on and jog quickly out of the park. I turn down toward the Bottoms. The dirty part of Zootopia. The part no one likes to talk about. Stuff goes on there that even the vaunted ZPD no nothing about. The Nighthowler serum incident was only the tip of a very large and filthy iceberg.

The tenements on the outskirts of the Bottoms rise up before me like a warning. It is. Stay away, it shouts at me in a misty, sibilant whisper. I jog down the first alley. I'm silently thankful that it's not further in that wretched hovel. There's a certain door there. I knock. Just like in those horrible cop movies my son loves, a door slides open near the top and a pair of eyes gaze out. I clear my throat and the eyes drop down to me.

"Otterton."

The door slides back into place and it opens. Light spills out into the alley. This is unfortunate because it brings what's in the alley into the light. I hurry inside. The wolf at the door nods toward the back of the brownstone. I know the way. Through the back curtain and down a flight of stairs is another wolf. Always the wolves that are on the doors. No other specie would be as good at it as they. He gives me a snarl, but opens the door. Inside, loud shouts and screams and there's a smell of copper in the air. It fills my nostrils and my paws begin to itch. There's a poorly lit ring against the far wall. Currently, they're pulling an unconsciously jaguar through the ropes.

"You're just in time!" screams the weasel on the microphone. "Ladies and gentleman! Give it up for our eternal underdog! Emmett...Otterton!"

I look at the dog across the ring. He snarls and barks a couple times at me. I can feel my blood working and pumping and...and there it is. I pull off my hoodie again and grab the bottom rope.

...you see...when you've been hit with as much serum as I was...it...really doesn't leave you. True, they can clean you up. Mostly. Enough to where you're in control for most of your life. But there are times...times like this. Blood calls to blood. Blood calls for blood. There's another problem, though. The Nighthowlers dropped all of my inhibitions, all of my conscious thought. Made me an animal again. I howl at the dog, who started at the sound. Then I attacked.

The other problem? I liked it.

***

"Looks like you didn't get out in one piece this time," Henry the wolf said as he sat down across from me.

He hands me an envelope filled with money. My winnings. The arena had emptied hours earlier. I stayed around to let the adrenaline slide from me. It took a long time. It always takes a long time. I look down at my arm. One of the cats had managed to get a swipe in. I must be losing my touch. I shrug as I put on my hoodie. I get up and slowly make my way to the door. That was the key to control, after all. Lose yourself for a little bit. Since you're not under the drug, the impulse will burn out. Great thing about this place. Once the impulse is gone, life returns to normal. More's the pity.

"Next month, Otterton," he says. "You won't be so lucky."

Might not. I nod and set the hoodie over my head as I head out into the early morning. Just enough time for me to get home, get cleaned up and struggle through my day. I know one day, my secret will be found out. I'll have to do a lot of explaining then.

...but that's not today...

I turn into the sun as I jog home.

***


End file.
